The Keys to Happiness
by Passionate Cec
Summary: Victorian-Era Helen is feeling down after finding a letter she wasn't meant to read. John finds her and tries to make her feel better. Part of the Piano Series.


This is another story in my Piano Series, which is starting to become quite important. However, as usual it can be read as a stand alone. This one must be blamed on the lovely Di-Bee for making me listen to the song _Piano in an empty room _by Vangelis. And she told me to listen to it because it would make me start writing a piano story. Look at how right she was…

Anyway, I know it doesn't fit the time period since this is set in the Victorian Era – the best time period to explore Helen/John – but you can listen to it while reading the beginning of this story; it will set the mood.

This is actually the longest one shot I ever wrote and I'm really happy about that.

As usual, Sanctuary, Helen and John don't belong to me. I make no money with this story. Its sole purpose is entertainment. No copyright infringement intended.

Pretty please, leave me a little review so I can know what you thought about this story. :)

Enjoy. :)

**The ****Keys**** to ****Happiness**

John walked through the hallway and followed the sound of the instrument. He knew then and there that something was wrong with his lover. This wasn't the type of songs she usually played on the piano. It was much darker, sadder, heavier and he wondered what had put her in such a state of mind. He knew that her father was gone on a trip for a little while which was what allowed him to move around the house so freely, but it couldn't be why she was feeling so sad.

It was late at night and he had been working in the college library. John had hesitated a long time before finally deciding to spend the night here instead of his room. Apparently it had been a wise decision. If Helen wasn't at her best, he would rather be there with her. And he would like to think that he would actually be able to do something to make her feel better. Helen had given him a key he could use during the weeks her father was gone and had told him to come and go as he pleased. It had taken him a few days to get used to not only being a guest in the house anymore. Of course they had to sneak around the maid but Helen often dismissed her early in the evening so they could have as much quiet time as possible.

As soon as he had opened the front door and stepped inside, he had heard the sound of the piano and smiled. His expression soon turning into a frown of worry when he heard the rhythm. He entered the library, opening the door softly so as not to startle her. She was sitting on the bench, her back turned to him. Her long blonde locks already untied and covering her back. She wasn't wearing anything but her nightgown and that maybe worried him more than the actual song. If she had left the comfort of her bedroom, most likely even her bed, to play there had to be something terribly wrong. He stepped forward slowly and set his hands on her shoulders. As he had suspected, she had been aware of his presence. She stopped playing and her hands moved to cover his, holding on tight as if she were afraid he would disappear. The hem of her gown slipped of her shoulder and he touched her skin. It was cooler than he had expected. Cooler than it should be.

'Helen.' He whispered.

He leaned down to kiss her neck and shoulder before circling the small bench and sitting down next to her. John didn't have the chance to get a glimpse at her face. As soon as he was next to her, her arms shot around his neck and she leaned heavily against him, arms holding on tight, hands and fingers gripping the coat he was still wearing, face pressed against the crook of his neck.

'Oh, John.' She murmured.

John was afraid she was crying. But he couldn't feel any tears or wetness against his skin. His own arms circled her body, one hand settling between her shoulder blades gripping the thin material of her gown the way hers did his coat. The other hand settled against her waist, bringing her closer to his chest, as much to warm her chilled body as to comfort her. She started shaking and John only held her tighter, burrowing his face against her soft hair.

They remained in this position for a long time, Helen holding him as tight as she possibly could, until her grip slackened a little and she held on just enough for him to know that she was still awake and still needed him. John held her back just as tight, the hand on her back, moving up and down in long, soft strokes every once in a while. When she finally pulled back, he was still as worried. He moved one hand up to cup her cheek, stroking the soft skin. Her blue eyes were slightly overcast in a way he had never seen before and he couldn't fathom what kind of bother had brought that on. Helen Magnus wasn't a woman easily disturbed. It had to be something big.

Helen offered him a weak smile, but she quickly gave up. He would be able to see right through her. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, smiling when he let her take the lead. _Always the gentleman_, she briefly thought. She deepened the kiss, letting their lips, tongues melt together. There was always such passion in his kisses. She had been completely lost when their lips touched for the very first time behind a shelf in Nikola's library. The kiss was soft and slow and Helen was once more overwhelmed by the sensations and feelings a simple touch from John Druitt could bring to her. Reluctantly, she pulled back, dropping a few more pecks on his lips, wishing she could spend the rest of her days just being near him and kissing him.

'Helen, what is it, my love?' She seemed even more distraught for a moment before she gathered her thoughts.

'I found a letter.' She said.

Her voice was softer than usual. A voice he knew from their times lying in bliss after their lovemaking. It seemed shakier than usual too. Yet there was still that strength that defined her and John realized not hearing her strong, confident words had worried him as much as seeing her as distraught as she had been when he first saw her. John caressed her cheek again, trying to comfort her enough to talk. He pushed a few blonde locks behind her ear.

'It was from my mother. Addressed to me. She gave it to my father before she died and he was supposed to give it to me on my wedding day. Reading it, I realized how much her expectations for me differ from what I truly am. I'm afraid I disappointed her.'

'Helen, you cannot possibly believe that.' He countered, refusing to even listen to her if she actually believed she wasn't making her mother proud.

He never thought his Helen would worry about something like that. But then again, no matter how rarely she talked about her mother, he knew she loved her. Helen was completely her father's daughter but he truly believed that Patricia Magnus had left enough of an impression on her daughter, despite how young the girl had been when she passed and despite the fact that Helen probably wasn't even aware of the link she shared with her mother.

'You are probably the woman a mother should and would be most proud of. You fight against the values of a society you rightfully consider ridiculous and wrong. You are a beautiful, intelligent, accomplished woman. No matter who you are and how much it differs from what your mother expected for you, I do not believe you could make her more proud.'

The look she gave him, the one that said she truly wished to believe him but couldn't quite, broke his heart. He had never seen Helen seem so fragile and broken. And the reason for her dismay made it even more heartbreaking. She was such a strong woman who fought so much against the values she despised, never showing any weakness. Yet, here she was, distraught and broken because of a woman who seemed to have so little influence over her, yet at heart, had probably shaped her as much as her father had. His hands dropped to hers and he gripped them tight, trying to prove a point just from the touch of their skins.

'Helen, believe me, your mother would be proud of you. I don't think anyone who knows you doesn't admire you. And your mother couldn't be anything but proud.'

'She expected me to read this letter years ago.' She whispered, as if this single fact was the worst part of it all. He frowned before he realized what she meant.

'She expected you to be married years ago.' She nodded. 'I think seeing you, your mother would be quite happy to have been proven wrong. Are you happy, Helen?'

'Excuse me?' She frowned.

'Are you happy? With your life. With the way you are leading it and what it has offered you. Regardless of the University still refusing to grant you your diploma, are you happy?' She thought for an instant and offered him a smile.

'Yes. I'm very happy. Regardless of my missing diploma and some values I still despise, I'm very happy.'

'I believe you have your answer. I truly believe your mother would much rather see you happy than leading a life you have not chosen. It might have met with the values of our society but those are not who you are and I'm certain you're far happier being given the opportunity to have your say.'

Helen grinned and blushed slightly. John squeezed her hands and leaned in to kiss her nose and her brow before resting his forehead against hers. He hesitated, hiding it behind the pretense of just enjoying their connection. He was certain of the answer to his next question. Still, it was never a question one wanted to ask their lover for fear of obtaining a negative answer or worse, seeing dishonesty in their eyes when they answered. John had no doubt it wouldn't happen this time. And still a blind fear gripped his stomach and almost had him pull back and retreat, leaving the question unasked and unanswered, leaving the heaviness out of the bubble they had created around themselves. But John Druitt wasn't known to be a coward or a fearful man. So he gathered his courage and pulled back just enough to be able to look her in the eye.

'Helen, do I make you happy?'

She was surprised by the question and he couldn't blame her. One feared hearing it as much as asking it. But after the initial shock, she didn't hesitate. Her eyes were set on his and there was an openness to them he had never seen before. She always let her wall down with him, yet, somehow, he thought she had let down the very last, invisible barrier and was allowing him to see straight into her. He could read the answer in her eyes before she whispered it in one breath.

'More than I could ever dream of being.' She leaned forward to kiss him softly and slowly. When she pulled back, she was just far enough so their lips weren't touching anymore. 'You make me happier than anyone or anything else. And when I'm with you I'm happier than I ever thought I could be.' They both grinned widely and kissed again, longer this time, pressing their lips together, wishing they never had to let go.

'I'm glad.' John whispered with a grin and another peck to her still slightly parted lips. 'Do you think your mother would rather see you with a man who truly loves you and makes you happy or one that has been chosen for you and whom you do not truly care for?'

'I believe what you want me to say is that it doesn't matter what people think as long as I'm happy.' John pecked her lips again and again, making it hard for her to talk. But she couldn't have cared less. She was grinning the whole time and wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world.

'No. What I want you to understand is that, I'm certain your mother doesn't mind you not having followed the path she had thought about for you. And I'm even more certain she's more than happy you proved her wrong if it allows you to be happy.'

Helen smiled and freed one of her hands to trail the fingers along the black and white keys of the instrument. She briefly looked back up at John, offering a small smile of comfort to show how much his words had meant to her and how much they had helped her. She pressed a few keys, enjoying the soft sounds coming from them. She remembered the first time she had actually been the one to play a song on the piano and smiled. She could feel John's gaze on her and knew he had to be wondering why she was smiling.

'My mother was the one to teach me how to play the piano.' She explained. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod and smile. 'I have always been more curious about what my father does and would always try to follow him. Mostly my mother didn't mind but my being able to play the piano was one thing she was adamant about. 'It is the most important part of a young lady's education,' she would say. When she passed, I took on teaching myself. I always feel a very particular link to her when I do. Now, I'm quite glad she was so insistent.'

'Is that why you came to play tonight?' Helen seemed surprised by the question, as if she, herself, hadn't considered that possibility.

'I suppose it is. I never thought about why I play when I'm feeling down. All I know is that it makes me feel free and much better. I suppose tonight I truly needed to feel closer to my mother.'

'You know Helen, you should always remember that. Anytime you think your mother wouldn't be proud of you, you should remember that you being happy is most likely what matters the most to her. And knowing how much the piano, something she has taught you, means to you must make her quite proud too.'

'Do you know one of the things I love about you, John?'

'Besides my charms?' John grinned. She chuckled.

'Besides them. Although they are already quite irresistible.' Helen kissed his lips. 'You can pull me out of the darkest of places with just a few words and touches.' She finally answered seriously, looking him straight in the eye so he could see how much she meant those words and how lucky she felt to have him. He let go of the hand he was still holding to move his back to cup her cheek.

'I wouldn't have it any other way, my love. If I held the key to making you happy for every moment in your life I would constantly make use of it.' Helen only grinned wider and turned her head to the side to kiss his palm.

'You do John. Believe me, you do hold that key.'

'Very well. Now, how about moving to your room? You're chilled to the bone.'

He stood up and pulled her up with him, his arm circling her waist to pull her as close to him as possible. He noticed that she was barefoot on the cold floor and glared at her. Helen just shrugged sheepishly but didn't explain or try to justify herself. Shaking his head, he leaned in down to kiss her forehead.

'Let's get you warmed up. For a smart woman, walking around dressed like this in a chilled house was a ridiculously stupid idea.'

Stroking her side to warm her up, he took hold of the candle she had set on top of the instrument and led her out of the room.


End file.
